


Still I Fall

by izloveshorses



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22988197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izloveshorses/pseuds/izloveshorses
Summary: Anya needs a ride back home for spring break, and unfortunately for her, the only person available is... well. Dmitry.The road trip au no one asked for!
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway)
Comments: 72
Kudos: 123





	1. Midterms

“Are you sure you don’t want us to get you a flight?”

“Yes!” Anya laughed into the phone. “Like I’ve said thirty times now, I _have_ a ride.”

“Marfa?” Maria mumbled. “Driving all the way here? For spring break?” 

“She’s headed in the same direction anyway. She said she’s spending the week on the beach and can drop me off on the way.”

“Sure she is.” 

Anya sighed. This conversation— one they’ve had many times now— was getting exhausting. “Listen, I can get myself home without everyone making a big fuss.”

“I know.” Maria reluctantly agreed. “But I just don’t understand what you’re trying to prove. Let Nanna help, we’ve got the resources.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to _rely_ on that.” She didn’t want to rely on her family name getting her wherever she needed to go. She even worked in the campus library and the local bookshop and paid for her own tuition, hence her lack of a car. Anya wanted to be able to do things _herself._ What harm was trying to find someone to catch a ride with?

Maria sighed. “Just don’t be late, okay?” 

“Be late? To the spring gala? Not a chance.”

The sisters said their goodbyes and Anya went back to studying for her next few midterms. Spring break couldn’t come soon enough.

But Maria had been right.

“Don’t tell me.” Anya said when Marfa smiled sweetly from the door later that evening, hesitating to walk into their room. “You can’t give me a ride.” When Marfa didn’t respond Anya fell back onto her bed. “Marfa!”

“I’m sorry!” Marfa crawled onto the bed and clasped Anya’s fist. “Look, you know I wouldn’t back out unless it was important.”

“What could be more important than me and the beach?” 

Marfa normally would’ve swatted Anya by now and called her a brat for being spoiled, but she got even quieter. “Gleb wants me to meet his mom.”

“Oh.” Anya sat up. “This is more serious than I thought.” Marfa bit her lip. “Are you nervous?”

“No!” Her smile grew. “I’m actually really excited.” She waved her hand in dismissal— she wasn’t much for getting too sappy. “To make it up to you I can ask my friend to drive you instead? He lives in New York so it wouldn’t be too out of his way.”

“He wouldn’t be as fun as you.”

“I think you’d be surprised.”

“I even made a playlist for us.”

“Oh, hon.” She moved closer. “We can listen to that now if you want.”

“It won’t be the same.” Anya stood up and found her shoes. “Let’s go to dinner and figure out how I’m gonna admit to my family that my plan fell apart.”

Marfa laughed. “I’ll talk to Dmitry later. He owes me.” They were out the door when she said again, “I really am sorry.”

“I know.” Anya shrugged. “That’s a big step. With Gleb, I mean.”

“Yeah.” Marfa changed the subject. “Are you excited for the party thing?”

Party thing. Her family threw a gala in the spring every year and it was always… extravagant, to say the least. They had to dress up and make small talk with caterers, investors, her grandmother's business partners, rich neighbors. 

It was suffocating.

But she loved and respected her family too much to complain. So, to support them, she couldn’t be late. But prove to them that she could be independent, she insisted that she could get herself there ontime without their help.

Anya sighed. “Not as excited as I should be, I guess.” She wasn’t looking forward to facing the pitying looks because ‘the poor thing has yet to bring home a nice young man. Olga was engaged by her age!’ She prefered small talk over being compared with her sisters. Or everyone assuming she was sad she wasn’t dating anyone at the moment instead of focusing on her education. “But I’m ready to be done with these midterms. And it’ll be nice to see everyone.”

“Don’t forget to miss me.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” 

They hadn’t exactly gotten along, to put it lightly, when they first met freshmen year, as what could be expected with randomly paired roommates. But now, several incidences and meeting with the resident director later, Anya couldn’t imagine rooming with someone else.

Maybe that was why she had looked forward to Marfa driving her to Connecticut so much. And maybe that was why it stung when she told her it wouldn’t work out.

But again. She loved her too much to complain. And she said she’d find someone else to drop her off, so how bad could it be?

* * *

Anya finished most of her midterms in a frenzied blur of stress, coffee, frantic quizlet-making, and late nights. She was completely packed and ready to leave after her last midterm in the morning. But first, she had to deal with working the closing shift at the library.

There were only a few people on the main floor so she could count her responsibilities at the circulation desk on one hand. She’d already reshelved returned books, organized the books on hold, and made the display look pretty, but she still had some time before closing so she pulled out her notes for the last exam of the week. But she couldn’t focus.

Some guy was sitting at a computer near her desk, clicking his pen repeatedly, mercilessly. She couldn’t ignore it with headphones because she was working. But as a student, she had no real authority over anyone, so she couldn’t ask him to stop unless he was truly disruptive. He probably didn’t even register what he was doing because he had his own headphones in blaring something obnoxious and loud. 

After a few more minutes of ceaseless clicking she couldn’t take it anymore. She slammed her book shut, startling her coworker who was nodding off at the front counter, and marched up to the guy.

He didn’t hear her approach. She tapped his shoulder and asked him to turn his music down, just as a courtesy for those studying around him.

“Will do, Sorry!” he said too loudly. She shushed him and he just laughed. “I thought there’s no one around to disturb.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you.”

She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “What if you’re disturbing me?”

He just grinned. A dimple appeared and he lifted his cap to run his fingers through his hair. Then he stretched (she pretended not to notice the carved muscle that peaked from underneath his hoodie) and stood, “I’m going to go grab some food.”

“At eleven-thirty?”

“Yep!” He pushed in his chair. “Mind watching my stuff for me? I’ll be right back.”

“We close in thirty minutes, and I work—”

“At that desk,” he pointed to where she’d been sitting, “so it shouldn’t be a problem.” Before Anya could protest he spun on his heel and ran out the door.

She huffed and pushed her glasses up the rim of her nose. Admittedly, he was right, no one was around, so she made her rounds through the library to see if anything was out of sorts. Despite it being the last night before break started, not many people were left. One nursing student monopolized a whole table with textbooks and notes sprawled about. Another was a group who’d reserved a study room where they could talk without disrupting anyone. Then there was someone who seemed to have given up and was watching netflix on their laptop. Other than that, the place was pretty empty. 

Anya was only in her seat for a minute when the guy walked back through the doors. She suppressed a sigh when he gave her a thumbs up and a grin as he plopped back in his chair.

She could still hear his music from her desk. Only now he had the noise of a crinkling fast food bag to block it out. 

He didn’t notice her glaring at him over her prehistoric art textbook. The study group all left at the same time, giving her sympathetic nods on their way out. Shortly afterwards the rest of the students filed out until it was just her, her sleeping coworker, and this insufferable boy. 

Only fifteen minutes until closing. She tried to ignore it, she tried to go back to memorizing dates and locations and eras of pieces from thousands of years ago. She really tried. But after he started laughing at whatever was on his phone, his textbook abandoned, she huffed and stomped around her desk.

“Excuse me,” she almost shouted because they were the only people left in the building. “We’re closing soon.”

“I’ve still got ten minutes!” 

“To do what? Scroll through instagram?”

He laughed and she rolled her eyes. “No one’s here. Most of campus is done with finals.”

“But I’m not!”

“Oh,” his grin fell a little, but it didn’t go away completely. “You weren’t kidding when you said I was disturbing you.”

“Did you think I was kidding?”

“Well, I thought you were working.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to be noisy.”

“How was I noisy?”

“You were—” she stopped when she realized he was having a _blast_ making her mad. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “I have to go turn off the computers. Please be ready to leave before the building closes.”

“Yes ma'am,” he saluted her as she walked away.

But when she was done, and had turned off most of the lights, his stuff was still sprawled across his table. That was the last straw.

“Please leave.”

“We’ve got like five minutes.”

“No. You’ve got exactly three minutes until I’m off the clock,” she started stuffing her own bag, “and then I can be as angry as I want.”

He doubled over he was laughing so hard. He still wasn’t getting ready to leave. Finally, he ceased, and gathered his belongings, Anya tiredly standing next to the exit and watching. The campus police were already there to lock the doors.

“It’s been a pleasure,” the guy said on his way out. “Good luck on your test.”

Anya smiled sweetly at him. “Good riddance.” He only laughed again.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

* * *

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Marfa had left the night before with Gleb, but she told Anya her friend would pick her up at ten. Anya had packed beforehand so she just had to take her test at eight and come back to wait by the curb for him to show up.

Nothing could’ve prepared Anya for who would park by the curb in a rusty old car. The engine sputtered and popped before the driver turned it off and stepped out. 

The same boy from last night stood on the opposite side of the car. Except he was wearing obnoxious sunglasses, a leather jacket, and no cap, so his hair was loose and fell over his forehead. When he saw her his eyebrows shot up for a second before he laughed. Except this time it wasn’t out of amusement, it was pure bitterness. 

_“You’re_ Anya?” 

Her brow furrowed. “You’re Dmitry, then.”

“The one and only.” He slapped the roof of his car then popped open the small, squeaky trunk and gestured for her to load her luggage. “This’ll be fun.”

More like the longest car ride Anya would ever have to endure.


	2. Day One

“We’re driving twelve hours… in this?” 

Dmitry halted. “She’s a sixty-seven Mustang!” He’d finally remembered his manners and had been helping Anya load her bags into the trunk. 

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“It means,” Dmitry tossed the last bag and slammed the trunk shut, “she can make it to the coast and back.”

“I don’t think it’ll make it out of the parking lot and back.” Anya sounded less than impressed.

“Don’t worry, I fixed her up myself.” Her expression didn’t change. “She’s sturdy!” To prove it, he slapped the hood of the trunk. She rolled her eyes again. “Besides, according to Marfa,” he leaned in close, “you don’t have much of a choice.”

He shouldn’t have enjoyed the pure hatred that flashed across her eyes, the same suppressed fury from last night, but he did, and he ducked into the driver’s seat before she could retaliate. He didn’t have to look out the window to know she had to convince herself not to change her mind. She only hesitated a moment before opening the door to climb in and slam it shut.

“Hey, easy!”

“I thought you said it was sturdy?”

“Because I’ve taken good care of her!” He turned the keys in the ignition and the car sputtered to life. They rolled out of the parking lot and maneuvered their way through campus and into Chicago traffic. Silence stretched on as they sat at a red light, and Dmitry was already bored.

“So!” he started. “Marfa said you had a test this morning?”

“You and Marfa have been chatty,” Anya said, shifting in the seat.

“She was just telling me that so I knew when to pick you up.” The light turned green. “But how did it go?”

“Ugh. It was too early for my taste.”

“What class was it for?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell she was looking at him suspiciously, like she was trying to find a joke behind his words. Trying to decide how truthful to be. “Art in Ancient Civilization.”

“Ah, an art student! You don’t really give off that vibe, though.”

“Art history, actually.” She took a sip from her water bottle. “What about you? Weren’t you studying for something last night?”

“That was for a calc exam. But most of my midterms were just projects— I’m an architecture major. With a minor in computer science.” He clicked on the turn signal before moving onto the highway. 

“I’d pegged you as a business major. Or sports management.”

He laughed. “I’m not  _ that _ awful!”

The noise she made suggested she thought otherwise. 

The car was quiet for a few minutes aside from the rumble of the engine. Eventually he heard her sink low in her seat but saw her prop her feet up, which was a worse insult to his dignity than calling him a business major.

“Feet  _ off _ the dash!” She glared at him but put her feet down. He leaned over to rub a scuff mark left from her shoe. “I just cleaned this.” The car swerved a bit but he still had his hand on the wheel and eyes on the road so they were fine, but she made a point to grab the handle above her door.

He felt a little bad for snapping. The cleanliness of his car, in the long run, really wasn’t a big deal, but at the same time he couldn’t stand to see something he’d worked so hard to restore be treated like that. His dad had always told him to respect everything he owned because he never knew how much money something could be worth one day.

He never mentioned sentimental value.

Dmitry shook the thoughts of childhood and his dad out of his head. To avoid them from creeping back into his mind again, he went back to pestering his passenger.

“So,” he started again, and she looked up from the novel she’d pulled from her purse, “any fun plans for break?”

She sighed. “My family throws this gala every year.”

“I’ve never been to one of those.”

“Yeah, well,” she shook her head. “They’re real fun.”

“Like, do you get to  _ party  _ party? Or is it too fancy?”

“There’s drinks. But I don’t want to get drunk in front of my grandmother and her important friends.”

He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not. “You don’t sound too enthused.”

“I am!” She sat up straighter. “I love my family.” Her tone was unconvincing. “How about your big plans?”

“Let’s see.” He held up his hand to count. “Driving you, visiting my friend Vlad, and working.”

“No vacations? Family to see?”

The differences between them became glaringly obvious. “No. No galas, either.”

“Oh.” She fiddled with her water bottle again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine,” he dismissed. “It happened a while ago.”

He suddenly didn’t feel like talking anymore. 

* * *

The next few hours dragged on in silence. Anya nodded off a couple times, the exhaustion from her mind-numbing test that morning kicking in, but she couldn’t get comfortable and there was this obnoxious rattling noise somewhere in the car.

At one point Dmitry turned on the radio and it was just as loud and overwhelming as whatever he was listening to in the library last night. She immediately turned it off.

He huffed. “The driver gets to pick the music!”

“The passenger gets to veto if the driver has bad taste.”

“Not in  _ this _ car!” he turned it on again.

She turned the volume down. A compromise. The first between them.

In the next stretch of quiet, Anya tried to read, but she kept reading the same paragraph over and over again so she gave up. 

Dmitry kept his car surprisingly clean, for a boy. There were no clothes or wrappers strewn about. He had nothing dangling from the rearview mirror. Despite the car’s age, there wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen, no grime on the windows, no mud on the mats. His cleaning habits were impressive, admittedly, but that didn’t reflect the way he drove. She wondered if he worked as hard in classes as he did on maintaining his car.

“There’s a Starbucks at the next exit,” Dmitry interrupted her thoughts. “Want something?”

“I want to cover as much distance today as possible.”

“It’ll only take a few minutes.” He’d already moved to the exit lane. “I need some coffee to keep me awake. And a snack. I’m starving.”

“I have chips in my purse,” she pulled them out.

He scrunched his nose. “Those are really bad for you.”

“You had fast food last night!”

“Because it was the closest thing to the library!” 

“I didn’t realize you were in such a hurry.”

“It’s not like I  _ wanted _ to be out that late.” He turned into the drive-thru line.

“It didn’t look like that to me!”

He laughed. “You’re really not gonna let that go, are you?”

“You were rude!” Her voice was rising. The thrill of arguing while trapped in a car was better than the endless boredom. “My shift was already miserable, and you were being annoying and slow on purpose!”

“How was I annoying?”

“How were you  _ not _ annoying?”

“You haven’t exactly been very pleasant, either—”

“Me?”

“You’re ungrateful—”

“You’ve been rude this entire trip so far—”

“I didn’t  _ have _ to deal with this—”

“You’re—”

“Order whenever you’re ready!” the strained voice in the speaker startled her enough to fall silent.

“Do you know what you want?” he didn’t give her time to answer before he started his elaborate drink and sandwich choice. Then he looked expectantly at her.

“Just a blueberry muffin and an iced coffee,” she mumbled.

He nodded and repeated her order. Anya offered him some cash to pay for it and he protested, but she just said, “As a thank you.” He blinked. He’d had a point about her being ungrateful. She really was thankful, but she supposed she hadn’t done a very good job of showing it.

One bathroom break later, they were on the road again. 

The silence, aside from the music in the speakers, was a little more bearable.

* * *

“So what made you decide to study art history?” Dmitry asked through a mouthful of sweet potato fries. They’d stopped at this diner next to a hotel after the sun dipped beneath the horizon and he’d declared he needed to stretch his legs again. 

Anya shrugged. She hated those kind of questions, but what else was there to talk about? “I love curatorial work, seeing how they preserve these glimpses into the past.” She took another bite of her oversized burger. 

Watching him eat was like watching a zoo animal. He took enormous bites, condiments dripping onto his plate, smacking his lips and slurping sauce from his fingers. Who would order a  _ veggie wrap _ at a diner?

To stop whatever was happening in front of her, she asked, “What are you going to do with your architecture degree?”

It didn’t work. He took a long sip of his water before answering, mouth still full, “I want to build shelters for the homeless.”

Her eyebrows rose. “I didn’t think you were the humanitarian type.”

“Wow,” he laughed. “First you call me a business major, and now you don’t think I have well-intentioned ambitions? I’ll bet you don’t think I get good grades either.”

“Well, I didn’t see much studying—”

He laughed even more. “Go ahead, guess what I got on my test this morning.” She didn’t respond and he leaned forward.  _ “Ninety-three percent!” _

“I’m impressed.” She ate another fry.

He shook his head. “You must think so little of me.”

She rolled her eyes. At this point she knew he was just fishing for an argument that she was too tired to deal with, but there was a bitterness to his tone this time, so she took the bait. “I don’t think I can get back in a car with you today.”

“Why’d you want someone to drive you anyway? You can obviously afford a flight.”

“Maybe I don’t want to depend on my family for everything! Maybe I don’t like flying—” why was she explaining this to him? “You know what, never mind, it’s none of your business.”

He laughed bitterly. “Because you don’t think I’d understand?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You think everyone has the luxury to decide whether or not they want to drive twelve hours because campus is closed? Or even pay their own tuition?”

“Of course not—”

“I had to earn every penny to get myself here. By myself.”

“That’s not fair. I can’t help it that my family has money and yours doesn’t, so don’t get mad at me for that.”

“I’m not! I’m just—”

“Why are you mad then?”

“Your life has been handed to you on a silver platter! You don’t know a  _ thing _ about what it’s like to struggle.”

“You don’t know anything about my life.”

“I know you’re going to just assume I’m failing my classes because I have no family to impress. No mommy or daddy to run to when life gets  _ hard.” _

She stood up suddenly. Her first instinct was to slap him, but tears pricked her eyes and she knew he saw. Before now they’d only bickered about meaningless things, but this time it stung. Instead of hitting him she just threw a couple of bills on the counter.

“Anya—”

“I’ll be in the car. Enjoy your dinner.”

When she looked back through the window from outside the restaurant, his head was in his hands.

* * *

The hotel was only one intersection down the street from the diner. No words passed between them on the short drive, tension and exhaustion filling the space instead. Anya was thankful for the quiet. It wasn’t exactly peaceful but it was better than fighting. Again. 

They wordlessly parked and grabbed one of their travel bags— Dmitry only had one anyway, and Anya had two, plus laundry, but she only needed pajamas and a toothbrush for tonight— and walked into the old hotel. Anya didn’t complain. She didn’t want Dmitry to think she was  _ privileged _ or whatever.

The weird numbness vanished when she talked to the desk worker.

“I’m sorry, there’s only one room available.”

Anya stared at him blankly for a second. “What?”

“You’ve asked to check into two separate rooms, but we are almost at full capacity.”

She wanted to cry. Dmitry spoke up next to her, “Are you sure there’s nothing you can do?”

“There’s a Holiday Inn at the next exit. Perhaps they’ll have room?”

Dmitry and Anya both spoke at the same time.

“You don’t understand—”

“I’m not spending another minute in the car with this man—”

“I am sorry.” The poor man’s eyes flickered back and forth between them. “It’s a king-sized bed and you’ll have a complimentary breakfast—”

Dmitry’s knuckles went white on the counter but Anya was tired of arguing. “We’ll take it.” After paying and accepting their keys, she glanced at Dmitry.

For once, he looked as unamused as she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk enough about cars but the '67 Mustang is a reference to Matt Rosell's car <3


	3. Night One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to Dream a Little Dream of Me on repeat for hours while writing this, I hope y'all are prepared

Sure enough, only a single bed was in their room.

Dmitry stepped in first and set his bag down, looking around as if there were another bed hidden somewhere as a surprise (there wasn’t). Anya was still in the doorway. He hated how tired she looked. Did he look just as exhausted?

Still feeling guilty for what he said earlier, he brushed past her through the door. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“Grabbing something,” he stuck his head back in the room when she didn’t respond. “I’ll be back in ten. Don’t go to sleep.”

When he came back into the room she was already curled up under the blankets with damp hair and a book in her lap. She glanced up and her eyes landed on the styrofoam cup in his hands. He didn’t move any closer, just in case she was still mad.

“I saw you eying the desserts on the menu,” he said by a lame way of explanation, “before…”

Her eyes moved up to meet his, her brow softening. “You went back.”

“Yeah.” He took that to mean it was okay for him to sit on the bed and offer the milkshake to her. “I didn’t know what flavor you wanted, so I just gambled on you liking chocolate. But I can go get something else—”

She readjusted herself so she was sitting on top of the comforter with her legs crossed, taking the cup from his hand. “Thank you,” she said, already sipping, “this is perfect.”

He smiled. “Good.” He shifted, making the bed creak, while she slowly sipped on her shake. “Anya, I’m sorry for what I said today. That was really insensitive of me.”

She shrugged. “I wasn’t being very nice, either.”

“But it was me who crossed the line.” She took another sip and he continued the speech he practiced on the short drive back and forth from the diner. “Whatever I said hurt you, and I don’t want to do that again. You don’t have to tell me anything—”

“No, it’s fine,” she sighed pulled at her straw absentmindedly. “We tried not talking and obviously that didn’t work, so maybe we should be more open with each other.”

He grinned. “It’s a deal.”

“It’s just…” her eyes fixed on a spot between them on the bed. “My parents died in a plane crash on their way back from a business trip last April.”

“Oh, God.” His jaw slacked. That explained why she’d rather spend two days in a car with him instead of two hours in a plane. And… “The family gala—”

“Nanna insisted we continue the tradition.” She huffed a humorless laugh. “The party’s already hard enough as it is, having to make small talk with investors and not mess anything up for the family business, but now… I don’t know if I can face it. Them not being there.” She took a shaky breath. “But I can’t  _ not _ support my family.”

His stomach twisted. The pain must’ve still been so fresh from such a horrifying accident, when not even a year had passed. That was something he could relate to. He didn’t know how to comfort her now that her eyes were damp, but he tentatively placed a hand on her back and muttered, “God, you should’ve smacked me for what I said.”

She laughed. “I thought about it.”

“Do you want to hit me now?”

“No!” She wasn’t crying anymore. “You didn’t know.”

“I guess there’s a lot of things we don’t know about each other.” 

They stared at each other for a long moment. Then Anya whispered, “Can we just start over?”

He huffed a laugh. “Sure. From now on, no more assumptions.”

They were staying up long past what he’d intended, but neither of them wanted to go to bed. She told him about her sisters and little brother, her grandmother, the family business. For generations now they’d owned a successful law firm. Even though they were wealthy and she loved her family, she’d wanted to figure out how to make a life for herself, so she insisted on paying her own tuition. And when she asked, he told her about his childhood, living without a mother, his father’s carpenter work and tinkering with cars, trying to figure out what to do with himself after he got sick. He’d grown up watching him build and fix things and decided to do the same, but designing what to build instead. 

“He used to put me on his lap while he worked at his bench on smaller projects for me.” At some point Dmitry had kicked off his shoes and was lying flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling while he talked. He said in a voice, “‘Sketch something for us to build, Dima!’”

She laughed. She was still sitting up with her legs crossed, her head resting in her hand. “Dima?”

“That’s what he called me.” He smiled at the memory. “There’s not a day I don’t miss him.”

A comfortable pause settled between them. She placed her empty cup on the nightstand next to her. “Was this car one of the ones he fixed?”

“Yeah.” He gestured vaguely to the window towards where the car was parked. “We worked on it together when I was a teenager before he died. After it was finished he gave me the keys and said I’d earned it.”

“Wow.” She sunk into the covers so they were laying side-by-side. “That explains why you own a car in New York City.”

He laughed. Good point. “I just… can’t let him go yet.”

“And that’s why it’s so clean.”

“Yeah. He always said to keep it clean and take care of it, because one day it could be worth thousands.”

“Is it not worth anything now? Not to be cheesy, but… love is more valuable than money sometimes.”

“You’re sounding privileged again.”

“I’m serious!” She laughed. “The work you put into it and all the memories it holds is worth a lot to you.”

He sighed. “I guess so.”

She paused. “In my classes, we study paintings and sculptures collectors will spend millions on. But the pieces I’m drawn to, the ones that stick with people, are the ones with a story behind them. The ones that the artist cared about, who didn’t create it for money or fame, but to tell us something. The ones that make us think we know the artist and the artist knows us. We feel it. And that feeling is more important than any money tied to the piece.” She shrugged. “It’s like looking at someone’s soul without ever meeting them.” 

He blinked over at her, never feeling more seen than he did now. Her eyes were bright with something she must’ve spent a lot of thought about, a different shade of blue in the low-lit room, flecks of light making them glow.

Oh no.

He sat up quickly. “I should get ready for bed.”

“Yeah.” She got underneath the covers. “You stink.”

He gave her a weird look before he realized she was teasing. 

What a day.

* * *

Anya was seconds away from sleep consuming her when she heard the bathroom door open. She didn’t know what she expected when Dmitry stumbled through the room, but it wasn’t a pair of bare arms and a tight-fitting undershirt he’d kept hidden underneath his jacket all day. He was bent over, digging through his bag, and her throat went dry watching light dance across shifting muscles.

He caught her staring and smirked. She rolled her eyes, his vanity was already through the roof. No need to make it worse.

Her breath hitched when his weight settled on the bed. The room fell into darkness when he turned off the lamp on his side, light from the streetlamps outside filtering through the window, and he adjusted himself deeper under the covers. They were both laying on their backs and staring blankly at the ceiling. Even though they’d just been sitting in the very same position for hours, this felt more intimate somehow. Especially after spending the whole day hating him. After sharing so much about herself. She felt exposed.

The bed shifted again. He was at the far edge, stiff as a board. Perhaps his stomach was in knots, too? Was he aware of every breath and muscle and (un)spoken word that shifted the bed and the space between them? 

She stretched and her toe accidentally touched his leg underneath all the blankets. She retracted and glanced over at him to unintentionally meet his eyes. They both rotated to their sides to face the opposite direction. The bed was large enough for both of them to stretch out but she curled up anyway.

Even after his breathing steadied, she couldn’t escape his presence. The occasional rumble of the cars outside and the hum of the air conditioner was nothing compared to the gentle swish of the blankets with every twitch of a muscle, the quiet and loud way he breathed. 

Sleep must’ve finally overcome her because the next thing she knew her face was buried in a lock of brown hair. His arm was draped over her waist and his head was tucked underneath her chin, invading her space. Or maybe she’d been the invader. She was on his pillow and her leg was tangled up in his. She hadn’t thought about how she tended to thrash in the night. Her t-shirt had rolled up and twisted so the tips of his fingers tickled the skin on her back.

He was so still, she was terrified to move and wake him up. The sun hadn’t even risen yet and it’d be unfair if she made him drive this early. So she willed herself to fall back to sleep.

Her eyes were wide open for what felt like hours.

The steady rhythm of his breath should’ve lulled her back to sleep, and it almost did, until he stirred. She had no idea what to do so she just squeezed her eyes shut when she heard him gasp. He yanked his arm away and stumbled out of bed. There was a moment before she heard him shuffle around the room, and she sunk deeper into the blankets because it was cold without his body heat. She peaked, wondering what he was doing.

That was a mistake.

Thankfully his back was to her, otherwise he would’ve seen her cheeks flush cherry red at the sight of him changing shirts.

She closed her eyes and a minute later heard the door open and quietly close. She drifted off again, and the next thing she consciously heard was his voice.

“Anya,” he gently shook her shoulder. “I brought you breakfast.”

“It’s too early,” she groaned. She regretted whatever caused her to wake up before dawn.

“Hmm.” There was a second before a pillow flopped onto her face.

“Hey!” It came out less menacing than she intended.

He stepped next to the nightstand. “We better get on the road—”

She threw the pillow back at him. He only laughed, his mood much too light this early in the morning. “You’re the one on the time schedule.”

Right. The gala was tomorrow and they were expecting her home for dinner this evening. She rolled out of bed and he said he’d meet her downstairs. He’d grinned at her and she didn’t know whether to look at his dimples or his unfairly messy hair or his arms that she now knew were beneath that leather jacket. After getting ready, texting her sisters that she was on the road again, and gathering her belongings, she remembered the muffin he’d picked up for her, sitting on the nightstand with a napkin tucked underneath it, next to the empty milkshake cup.

Anya didn’t know what was scarier: the fact that Dmitry remembered she liked blueberry muffins and had thought about her, or the way her heart fluttered at the thought.


	4. Day Two

A weird and quiet peace had settled between them as they made their way across the Ohio and Pennsylvania border. Unlike yesterday, Dmitry didn’t feel the need to fill the silence, and when they did talk there wasn’t that underlying tone of malice and mockery. Rain tapping on the windows, distant thunder, and the swish of the windshield wipers was enough for now.

His coffee had gone cold. He’d made Anya a cup too before breakfast had closed at the hotel, but he didn’t know how she liked it so he’d grabbed a handful of cream and sugar packets.

He tried not to think too hard about the way she’d looked at him when he gave them to her.

But there wasn’t much else to do. She must’ve had the same thought because she slouched into her seat and whined, “I’m bored. How long have we been in Pennsylvania?”

“About an hour.”

She groaned. “It feels like we’ve been driving for four years.”

Her exaggeration made him laugh. Then he sighed, “There’s a box of cassette tapes under your seat.”

“Really!” She pulled the box onto her lap and flipped through the collection. He smiled at each little  _ thwap _ the tapes made when they landed on each other, but he squirmed as she slowed, and he realized how much he was willing to reveal about himself to her. Letting her look through his music was somehow more intimate than spilling his dreams and desires or waking up in a tangle of limbs together. Neither of them had brought up this morning yet. He doubted they would, despite deciding talking about things was better than not talking at all.

“Pick something out yet?” he asked, because she was taking a while and he felt like he was exposed under a microscope. 

“Umm,” she picked up the pace again, “not yet.” After another minute of flipping through she giggled and pulled out a tape. “What’s this? ‘Dima’s Daytime Jams’?”

He winced. He forgot about that one. “That’s not—”

“What’s on it?”

“Oh, just some embarrassing songs I liked back in the day,” he waved his hand dismissively. “You wouldn’t like it—”

Her laugh made him realize she’d already made up her mind. “I think I would!”

“We don’t have to listen—”

“We  _ absolutely _ have to listen.” She was already cramming the tape into the cassette player.

A blush creeped up his neck as the speakers filled with static and the voice of Cyndi Lauper.

“Oh my god,” Anya giggled. “This is  _ not _ what I was expecting.” 

He rubbed his neck. “It gets worse.”

The next song was “Take on Me,” and he didn’t blame her for cackling. Her laugh was so contagious and adorable he couldn’t help but laugh with her. His whole face was definitely hot now, and somehow burning even hotter when MC Hammer started playing, then the theme of  _ Fresh Prince of Bel Air. _

“I can’t believe—” she wheezed. “I can’t believe this.”

“I’m not even going to defend myself.”

Whitney Houston started playing. “No! I didn’t realize you had such good taste!”

Despite how uncomfortable he was, he couldn’t quit laughing. “I regret letting you pick the music.”

“I think that was the best decision you ever made.”

“Don’t make fun of me for liking good songs.”

“I’m not! I’m just—” her laughing slowed. “You surprised me is all.” Then, so quietly he almost didn’t catch it, “You keep doing that.”

Neither of them said anything for a while. He was content just listening to Fleetwood Mac, the rain pounding on the car, and the windshield wipers trying to keep up. 

Anya had slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet underneath her legs. “Were these your dads?” Her question was quiet, matching the sobriety of the song.

“Some of them were. I think some were Mom’s, but I don’t listen to those as often. My life isn’t a shrine to the past.”

He risked a glance at her and his stomach flipped. Those blue eyes saw right through him, and if he weren’t driving, they wouldn’t let him go.

Dmitry realized he was dreading the end of this trip.

* * *

“You know,” Anya said between sips of her iced coffee. The spring rain pounded even harder as they meandered back to the highway. After another Starbucks run they hopefully only had one stop left before she’d be home. “There’s still one thing I haven’t figured out.”

“Oh?” Dmitry’s tongue darted between his lips, a grin sprouting on his face. Since he was driving there weren’t any consequences to studying his profile, which she found herself doing a little too much of in the past few hours, but every once in a while he’d glance in her direction and she’d have to pretend her cheeks weren’t flushed.

“I understand why you want to be an architect, but I don’t get the computer science minor.”

His grin grew and his dimple creased. “Have you been thinking about me?”

“I’m just trying to start a conversation,” she huffed.

He shrugged. “They offered me a scholarship for it so I guess it’s something I’m good at. And I work at a computer repair company.”

“Do you know how to, like, hack and stuff?”

He laughed. “I mean… I know coding? So sure, I can hack.”

“So you’re a nerd then.”

“You’re one to talk!” He scoffed. “You work at a library!”

“Yes, but I’m a  _ trendy _ nerd. There’s a difference between bookworms and computer people.”

His retort was cut short when a pothole jostled the car, hard enough to pop a tire. Dmitry cursed and turned on the hazard lights as he pulled off onto the side of the road.

“I’ll call the insurance company. It shouldn’t take too long—”

Anya threw her hood up and stepped out of the car, the rain immediately soaking her sneakers. She popped open the trunk and shuffled their bags around so she could reach the spare.

“What are you doing?” Dmitry called, scrambling out of the front seat.

“Haven’t you ever changed a tire before?” she said over the rain.

He moved beside her. “Well, yeah, but—”

“Here,” she handed him a duffle bag that was in the way. She put together the jack and started pumping, and when she was satisfied with the height, knelt down to unscrew the lugnuts. 

“Wait,” Dmitry called. He’d yanked the spare from the trunk and rolled it next to her. When she looked up at him he was holding an umbrella over her head, bewildered expression on his face, and he offered his hand to hold the lugnuts. 

“Thank you,” she muttered, and continued her work in silence. 

He helped raise and lower the jack as needed. After replacing the tire and tightening the lugnuts, they rolled the ruined one to toss into the trunk, giggling when they slipped on the pavement. But their smiles dropped when the doors wouldn’t open.

He patted down his pockets and looked at her lamely. 

Her eyes widened. “You locked the keys in the car!?”

“I didn’t mean to!” 

_ “Obviously _ you didn’t mean to!” They were still standing underneath the umbrella on the passenger side, so shouting wasn’t really necessary, but it felt good. “Can you break in?”

“What makes you think I know how to break into a car?”

“I don’t know! I thought you were good at hacking!”

“Into  _ computers!” _

“Oh my god.” She rubbed her temples and her eyes landed on a chunk of loose pavement.  _ That’ll work. _

“No!!” Dmitry shouted when she raised the fist-sized rock above her head. He lifted and spun her around so he was between her and the window. “Don’t you  _ dare.” _

She threw the rock down in frustration. “Well, what do you suggest we do!?”

He gripped his hair, the wetness making it stick up in weird angles. “Do you have a wire hanger in one of your suitcases?”

The trunk was thankfully still unlocked and sure enough, she had a wire hanger. She figured out his idea when he straightened it out, and asked him if he knew what he was doing.

“I saw it in a movie once,” he said over his shoulder as he jammed the wire through the window. She rolled her eyes. But the door opened after he yanked upward, so she admitted to herself she was a little bit impressed.

The annoyance returned when the car wouldn’t start.

She shivered in her seat, drenched to the bone, as she watched him pop the hood. His shoulders were hunched and he could barely look at her when he came back into the car and admitted a belt had broken.

Something broke inside Anya’s mind. Instead of screaming or crying in frustration, she laughed. Like a maniac. He probably thought she’d gone insane but he just muttered, “I’ll call a tow truck.”

She laughed like a lunatic again when the mechanic said they found more issues with the car and it wouldn’t be fixed until morning. Everyone gave her a weird look, but she was still in hysterics that of course this would happen to her, and she sent a quick text to her sisters that she wouldn’t be home in time for dinner.

* * *

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Maria asked her again through the phone. “One of us might be able to pick you up.”

Anya sighed. “I’m  _ fine. _ We’ll just go straight to the gala and get ready there, no big deal.”

“I’m just worried about you is all. We all are.”

“I know.” She fiddled with her sleeve. The tow truck driver had offered them a ride anywhere in town, and they’d stopped at this hotel to check in and dry off— and of course, their living situation was the same as last night. It was even more uncomfortable after he’d wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to get a discount on the car payments. She would’ve smacked him right then, only because she had already spent forty-eight hours with him, when he whispered, “Just go with it” in her ear. Her cheeks had flushed with anger or something else but she smiled sweetly anyway.

They’d trudged to the breakfast diner next door. Anya was standing near the bathrooms as she talked to her sister, Dmitry was studying the menu from a corner booth.

“It’s a shame you don’t have a boyfriend who could’ve driven you instead,” Maria sighed. “Nanna might forgive you for being late if you brought home a man for once.”

Anya rolled her eyes. She wasn’t even home yet and she was already dealing with the same conversation they had every year. But… watching Dmitry blow a straw wrapper across the table repeatedly gave her an idea.

She didn’t know if the frustration of the day or the dread of having this conversation yet again compelled her to say, “Actually, about that… I have something to tell you.”


	5. Night Two

Anya immediately regretted what she told Maria.

She was going to tell Dmitry as soon as she got back to their booth after she hung up the phone, while the exhaustion and frustration was still fresh and hot, but when she sat down he apologized profusely for everything that’d happened (even though it technically wasn’t his fault, she admitted to herself) and to make it up to her he’d pay for dinner and dessert. His earnesty shocked her so much that all of her anger vanished and was replaced with cold guilt and dread. 

What was she supposed to say to him now? _Thank you, that’s so sweet! By the way, my sister said to tell you hi and that she can’t wait to meet you because I may or may not have told her you’re my boyfriend who’d be my plus one at the gala tomorrow as revenge for what you’ve put me through for the past 48 hours! And you can’t back out because that would mean I’d have to admit I was lying, which is worse!!_

So she just stopped at thank you. Later, she’d tell him. 

To keep the boredom at bay, she suggested they try to guess what the other would like from the menu and order it for them.

“But we’ve only known each other for two days!” Dmitry complained.

“We haven’t been _separated_ for two days, surely you’ve picked up a thing or two,” Anya shrugged. Honestly, it felt like she’d known him a lot longer, but she couldn’t decide if it was the frustrations piling up or something else. 

“Perhaps I have,” He grinned, leaning back and sipping on his water. “But I’m gonna need more convincing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Or we could order for ourselves, like normal, boring people. Time is going to fly...”

“Fine.” He flipped through the menu. “Let’s see… where’s the greasiest thing you could possibly order…”

“You’re one to talk. Your favorite breakfast food is probably oatmeal or something.”

“It’s good for you!”

She kept teasing him about his taste (or lack thereof), and they took turns guessing what to order. He ended up ordering her a stack of pancakes, and surprisingly, he wanted an omelet. That wasn’t what she was expecting. 

There were a lot of things about him she hadn’t expected.

“You can draw, right?” she asked after taking the first few bites of her pancakes drizzled in syrup. “Like, blueprints and stuff?”

“I mean…” he cut a piece of his omelet. “I guess so, yeah.”

She dug for a pen from her purse and set it on top of a napkin. “Prove it.”

“I don’t do well under pressure.”

“I’m not! I just want to see!”

He sighed and picked up the pen. “What should I draw, then?”

She grinned. “Me?”

“I can’t draw people.”

“I thought you said you could draw.”

“Geometric things!” he said with his mouth full of egg. “Buildings, cars, that sort of thing, if any. Not faces.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Fine. Draw what you want then.”

He clicked the pen for a few seconds, reminding her of the other night at the library, before leaning down to scribble something. His eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, his hands splayed to keep the napkin still, his hair falling forward. 

Anya was almost finished eating when he sat up and spun the napkin around to show her. She recognized the quick lines and shapes immediately. “Aww, that’s so cute!” she exclaimed and he made a face. “It’s the car!”

“I couldn’t think of anything else,” he said sheepishly.

“What else is new?”

He laughed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’m keeping this,” she said, and stuffed it in her bag.

“What for?” 

“As a souvenir.” Something to keep after this trip. A trip that would inevitably end, she realized. An ending she was dreading.

* * *

Long after the sun went down they tipped the waitress and raced each other back to the hotel, giggling like children in the quiet hallway. Dmitry wondered if the exhaustion and the ridiculousness of the day made him laugh a little easier, or if it had something to do with her.

Their room was almost identical to last night’s. Except this time, he didn’t mind the sleeping arrangements as much.

Anya collapsed next to him in bed. He didn’t know why they sat down before getting changed, since he was so tired he should’ve just gotten ready for bed, but he wasn’t going to interrupt their discussion, even though it was beginning to lull. 

“What would you be doing right now if you were home?” Anya asked. She had her legs crossed and hands folded over her ribs, staring at the ceiling. He was on his back with one hand under his head and the other splayed across his chest, one leg dangling over the edge, swinging every few seconds. 

He hummed in thought. “Probably playing PlayStation.”

“You really are a nerd.”

“Hey, I gotta pass the time somehow!” he laughed. “Well, what about you? What would you be up to?”

“I don’t know. Chatting and watching a movie with my sisters?”

Silence stretched for a minute. “I really am sorry,” he said quietly in the dark, “for what happened today with the car.”

“It’s not your fault!” she rolled onto her side, resting her head in her palm, her other hand picking at a seam on the comforter between them. “I always kind of dread coming home for this anyway.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” She hesitated, as if she felt guilty, but then said all in one breath, “Sometimes I guess my family just… gets on my nerves? All they want to do is compare me to my sisters, talk about my irrational choice of a degree, why I don’t accept their help when I ‘obviously’ need it— what does that even mean?— and why I haven’t brought a date to this gala yet, and it’s humiliating.”

Her pause gave him an idea. “What if _I_ come to the gala with you?”

“What?”

“We’ll have to go straight there anyway, and I like to party, and I don’t have any plans, so why not?”

“Well, actually… I kind of already told Maria you’d be coming,” she admitted quietly.

He snorted in surprise and rolled on his side to mirror her. “And _when_ were you going to tell me?”

“I was going to!” Her cheeks were flushed. “I was so frustrated with you but then you were being uncharacteristically nice, so I decided to wait.”

“Hmm. Well I don’t want to go now.” 

She shoved his shoulder. “Why not!”

“I could be playing PlayStation, which sounds much more appealing than pretending to date someone.”

“You wouldn’t even have to do anything or talk to anyone, you just have to stand next to me looking handsome for a few hours, and then you get to go home and play your video games or whatever.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m handsome?”

Her eyes rolled but her cheeks reddened even deeper. _“That’s_ what you got from this?”

“But you think I’m handsome.”

“That’s not what I said!”

“I won’t commit to going until you admit you think I’m handsome.”

“That’s not what I said!” she repeated, shoving him again, her hand falling just a whisper away from his. He scooted closer until their knees were touching and she was looking at him again. “Fine. I suppose you’d look nice in a tux, but you probably already knew that.”

He grinned, thrilled to have one triumph after a rather defeating day. The silence lingered and their hands found each other. He didn’t know whose fingers initiated the dance, but they ghosted over and between each other, not committing to intertwining, and he watched them for a minute. Then he looked back up at her face and those blue eyes were terribly close. For a second he was too scared to even breathe, afraid that anything would break this fragile moment of peace in the air. The dim lamp on the nightstand beside them revealed a few freckles across her pink cheeks. The dread for the end of whatever strange journey they were on that had been swirling in his stomach transformed into something entirely new, creeping up into his heart and throat, and that was what made him lean in even closer. His fingers traced up the contour of her arm and rested on her waist, her hand resting on his chest, fingers pulling slightly at his t-shirt. 

He was inches away from giving into whatever was magnetizing him to her when he remembered where they were. Why they were here. She’d be gone tomorrow, and she’d move on with her life.

He rolled over and sat up quickly. “I should shower.” He risked a glance at her when he bent over to grab his bag.

She almost looked disappointed. “Okay.”

He’d only known her for two full days, he reminded himself. But it felt like in that short span of time, she’d seen a lifetime’s worth of his heart.

* * *

When Dmitry got out of the shower, Anya had fallen asleep. 

The lamp was still on. Her arm was stretched to his side of the bed, other arm clutching her pillow, lips slightly parted, hair spread out, her back steadily rising and falling. She’d always seemed kind of vulnerable to him, but this was softer. 

Her request from dinner echoed in his mind again. After a couple seconds of hesitation, he sighed and tiptoed over to the nightstand and picked up a pen and a pad of paper the hotel provided for them to leave a review of their stay. There was plenty of blank space on the page, he decided, so he gently sat on the edge of the bed and began tracing a rough contour.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he couldn’t draw faces very well, but he remembered a few techniques from the few empirical drawing classes he had to take his freshmen year. It only took a few minutes to fill the page with some quick gestural lines and a couple of hatch marks to add depth. He didn’t think it quite captured her likeness, but he wasn’t exactly displeased with the results. Then he realized she might think it was creepy if he gave it to her, or that he should be embarrassed he even sat down to draw her in the first place, yet he couldn’t decide if he wanted to throw it away or not. So he just tore it out of the pad and folded it up to tuck deep in her open purse on the floor. She’d asked for it anyway. He just wasn’t brave enough to see her reaction to the gift.

He gingerly moved her arm so he could crawl into bed and turn off the lamp. When exhaustion finally pulled him to sleep, he dreamed of an endless drive and blue eyes that saw right through him.


	6. Day Three (The Gala)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a big boi chapter so buckle up

Dmitry woke up with the smell of shampoo in his nose.

Anya had invaded his space again in her sleep, her head resting on his chest and hand curled across his ribcage, her hair tickling his cheek. He tried not to dwell on the fact that this was the second time in a row they’d woken all tangled up together. He hadn’t mentioned yesterday morning, and he doubted he’d bring it up today, but he still held his breath in the early morning light.

He carefully moved her off of him so he could get ready for the day and head down to the lobby for breakfast. On his way down, he wondered if she knew how he’d woken up, or how she’d react if she did, or why he was avoiding waiting to see for himself. He wondered why he was even bothering thinking about it all morning.

When he made it back to the room, carefully cradling their coffees and muffins, Anya was zipping her suitcase closed. 

“Good morning,” she said, flipping her damp hair over her shoulder.

“You’re up early,” he responded. 

Her eyes landed on the food he was awkwardly holding. “Is that for me?” She asked softly.

He shrugged and looked away before a smile spread across her face, still avoiding her reactions to his gifts. 

Later they’d checked out of their room, had walked to the mechanic’s shop, paid for the repairs, and were loading the car with their bags. She poked him in the side, probably noticing he was quieter than usual. “You seem tired. Want me to drive?”

“Ha!” He opened the door on the driver’s side. “Not a chance.”

“Why not?” She huffed as they climbed into the passenger’s seat.

“No one gets to drive my car. I’d have to be dead before that happens.”

“So you don’t trust me?”

“It’s not that!” he said quickly, starting the engine. “It’s just a rule. No one drives my car except me.”

She giggled. “Fine, if you insist.” The car was silent until they pulled onto the highway, when she spoke again, “Oh I forgot to ask, do you have a tuxedo?”

“Uhh,” he shifted uncomfortably. “No—”

“That’s fine. I’ll text Olga to find you something, it shouldn’t be too much trouble.”

She continued chatting about little details for later that afternoon when they were supposed to arrive at the venue, more talkative than she’d been yesterday morning, and Dmitry felt dread settle deeper into his stomach. In a few hours she’d be back in her world. A world, he thought in spite of himself, that didn’t have room for him.

* * *

As they slowly meandered through the New York City traffic, Anya felt more and more anxious. The past few hours were uneventful and peaceful between them but she couldn’t shake the discomfort. Dmitry had been uncharacteristically quiet for some reason, but now that they were in his city he seemed to be back in his comfort zone.

“There’s my apartment,” he pointed at a complex as they drove past. “And… there’s where I work. Not that it’s too exciting to look at,” he huffed a sheepish laugh. The building was just a block away from where he lived and it resembled an old Radio Shack. “Now, do I need to drive by the touristy places, or—”

She laughed. She’d been doing that a lot lately. “I’ve spent plenty of time in the city, you know.”

“Are you one of those people who say they live in New York when you actually live in Connecticut?” 

“I mean, I come here a lot—”

“But that’s different than  _ living _ here.”

“Would you hate me if I am one of those people?”

He grinned and shrugged. “I kind of already do, but—”

She shoved his shoulder. “Shut up.”

They slowly made their way to Midtown Manhattan, pointing out memories along the way, recommending restaurants and clubs the other hadn’t visited before. It was a nice change of scenery after driving through the flat midwest into something more familiar.

Eventually, they pulled in front of a towering building and parked in front of the sidewalk. After a second of silence with the car turned off, she sighed and unbuckled her seat belt. “Ready?”

His face said he was absolutely not ready. But then he smirked, “The question is, are  _ they _ ready for my charms?”

She laughed and rolled her eyes. Unfortunately, it would take more than a pretty smile to impress her family.

Footsteps clobbering down the stone steps to the building caught her attention. All four of her sisters and her brother were clamoring to greet her first, and their faces were what made excitement replace the anxiety. She gave one last glance to Dmitry before opening the door. Immediately overwhelmed with hugs and exclamations and  _ what took you so long? _ ’s, she almost didn’t hear the other car door squeak open and slam shut, reminding her of the awkwardness to come.

“Dmitry,” she waved him over to her side of the car, where she was still trapped in a sibling huddle. She stepped back and held his forearm because she didn’t really know what else to do— how does one introduce someone who drove you for three days and then offered to be your date for a night? It was always so jarring seeing him standing upright instead of sitting next to her in a car. He carried himself with hard-earned pride that she’d originally thought was arrogance, but now that she understood him a little more, she hated how he looked like he was trying to shrink under the gaze of everyone around them.

After an introduction to (and a pointed look from) each of her siblings, a valet approached them and offered to park the car.

Dmitry stiffened. “But… what about your stuff?” He looked down at Anya. “Your bags are still in the trunk.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Olga interjected with a wave of her hand. “There’s a spot open right next to our car and they’ll unload from there.” 

Dmitry hesitated, but reluctantly passed his keys to the valet when Anya nodded. Their conversation from this morning echoed in her mind. She squeezed his hand, wanting him to know that even though she was with her family now, he was still welcomed to be by her side. Well— he was sort of obligated at this point, but the sentiment was there.

Olga held up his arm to examine him. “Perfect,” she said as they climbed the steps and walked through the entrance. Caterers and staff members were still setting up the dinner buffet and decorations. “You’ll fit right into the extra tux my husband brought— Alexei, can you show him where to change?” Her brother started tugging him towards the men’s lounge. Dmitry flashed Anya a quick and confused smile before disappearing around the corner, and she knew he’d be fine.

“Oh! Nastya,” Maria chirped. “Your dress is here too. I didn’t forget it this time.”

Anya thanked her and looked around. “Where’s Nanna? I want to tell her hi before—” 

“She’s making sure everyone’s setting up correctly, of course.” She herded Anya to the women’s room. “Now, let’s get you ready,” Maria finished with a tone that suggested she had more planned than just getting her ready. 

In minutes Anya was stuffed into her blue gown and forced to sit in front of the mirror as Tatiana fixed her makeup and Maria was twisting her hair into an updo.

“I can get myself ready,” Anya protested halfheartedly.

“We know,” Maria said. “We just miss playing dress up with our baby sister.” Anya secretly missed it, too. 

“So,” Olga said while she was fixing her mascara in a voice that made Anya suppress a groan. She knew where this was going. “The guy...” 

Anya sighed. “Could you at least start with the normal questions, like how my midterms went, or how I’m liking my classes? Can we not have a conversation that passes the bechdel test?”

“Nope!” said Tatiana. “Nanna’s the only one who really cares about that stuff.”

Anya gasped in offense but they all only laughed. 

“Did you honestly not expect us to ask about him?” Maria placed another pin in her hair. 

“No it’s just— I thought you’d at least wait until the gala’s over.”

“If you’d warned us he was that cute, maybe we could’ve waited.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tatiana said. “I want to know everything  _ now.” _

“How’d you meet him?” Olga asked.

Anya was a terrible liar so she told the truth. “At the library.”

“Of course you did,” Olga rolled her eyes. “You’d be  _ that _ cliche.”

“Did you sleep with him?” Maria asked and Olga hit her shoulder. “It was a fair question!” She shrugged as if it were obvious.

“No!” Anya said quickly. “Well, I mean—”

“Ha!” Maria yelled. “That’s why it took you so long to get here.”

“That’s not—” Anya’s cheeks reddened. “We just had to sleep in the same bed, but nothing happened.”

“Sure,” Maria placed one last pin in her hair and seemed satisfied with her work. “But seriously, I’m just glad you’re happy.”

Anya blinked. “Are you saying I need a man to be happy?”

“No, Nastya, we know you’re independent.” Tatiana finished her makeup as well and stepped aside so Anya could see. “It’s just obvious you like him, that’s all.”

“As long as he doesn’t steal you away from us, I’m okay with our baby sister growing up,” Olga patted her cheek and walked out of the lounge. Apparently to them, being “grown up” meant dating someone, not maintaining her grades and finances on her own. Huh.

Anya blinked at her reflection in confusion. This was getting to jumbled— it was hard to separate whatever this was with her actual feelings. Whatever those were.

“I’m going to get some water,” Anya thanked her sisters and left the lounge. Guests would be arriving shortly and she’d need to greet them, so now was the only time she’d have a chance to get refreshed for a few hours. She also needed some air and a break from their confusing converstation, but she didn’t mention that.

Dangerous questions were swirling in her mind so much that she bumped into someone. “‘Scuse me—” she halted when she saw who it was. “Oh. Dmitry.”

He blinked down at her, lips slightly parted. His shoulders filled the tuxedo nicely, his hair slicked back instead of falling into his eyes, except for one little stray hair hanging from his forehead. Her throat had gone dry that morning when she saw his hair was a little bit curly when he first woke up, but this was different. She tried not to notice his eyes trailing up and down from her dress to her face. He cleared his throat. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she responded dumbly. Then she stepped back because she was still holding onto his arm for balance after tripping into him. To ease the tension, she swished her skirt. “Well?”

He smirked and shrugged. “Not bad.”

She rolled her eyes. “Did you and Alexei get along?”

“Yeah, you didn’t tell me he played  _ Red Dead Redemption Two.” _

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“It’s a video game!”

“Oh,” she waved her hand. “You and your nerd things.” He laughed and another silence fell. “I have to greet the guests in a few minutes. It’s the worst part, so are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he said, puffing out his chest, but his hands searching for something to do other than twitch at his sides betrayed his confidence. 

“Wait,” she reached up to fix the hair sticking up from his forehead— it was even softer than she imagined— and straightened his tie. His throat bobbed when her hands lingered on his chest a little longer than what was considered appropriate for friends, or whatever they were at this point. She’d lost track a while ago.

After another second of silence, he gave her a half smile. “Am I now handsome enough to party?”

“Meh,” she said, and they grinned. 

“Anastasia?” a voice called her attention away. Her grandmother glided towards her with her arms outstretched, and Anya immediately embraced her. “My darling, I’m glad you’re home!”

“I’ve missed you, Nanna,” she replied.

“Now,” her grandmother looked Dmitry up and down. He shifted under her gaze. “Is this your young man?”

Anya grit her teeth, her smile strained. “Yes, this is Dmitry.”

“Excellent!” She reached up and patted him on the cheek once and his eyebrows rose in surprise. “I’ll talk to you later. The caterer had a question and I was on my way to answer it.”

After she walked away, Anya tried not to giggle at him rubbing his cheek. Alexei called her towards the entrance so she could greet the guests walking in, so she linked her arm through his and pulled him forward, ignoring how he quickly dropped his eyes when she looked up at him one last time.

If her somersaulting stomach was anything to go by, this would be a long night.

* * *

Dmitry itched underneath his collar. He’d watched Anya shake almost a hundred wealthy hands in the past hour before they sat at a white-clothed table to eat whatever had been prepared for them. 

Just as they’d sat down, Marie had stood to toast her son and his wife, addressing the tragedy lingering in the air, and Anya gripped his hand under the table. Instead of thinking too much of it he just gave it a comforting squeeze. 

While he enjoyed getting dressed up and eating food he’d never get to taste again, he knew he didn’t belong, and other people knew, too. He didn’t know how many more bewildered looks he could tolerate. Was it obvious the tux didn’t fit properly? Was it his hair? No, Anya had fixed that. Maybe everybody here knew each other and he was the only one they didn’t recognize. Or maybe he was just such a glaring outlier that he was hard to ignore even in a sea of hundreds of smalltalkers. 

But Anya kept smiling up at him, her eyes bright, so maybe nothing else mattered.

Or maybe he’d go home and move on from her like a normal person would after spending only three days with someone. 

Anya picked the food on her plate with her fork. “That diner in Pennsylvania was better,” she muttered, and he barely heard it over the chatter.

He laughed. “This is almost too fancy for me, but I won’t complain.”

She was about to say something else when someone called for her from another table. She sighed and stood up. “I’ll be right back,” she said, her hand grazing his shoulder.

“Young man,” he didn’t even realize Marie had approached him. He smiled politely as she sat down. “Before I forget, this should take care of the expenses on the way here.” 

“What?” 

She stuffed a check into his hand and his eyes widened at the number written across it. “For gas, hotel rooms, and anything else.”

“I— I can’t accept this,” he said, but she was already standing up. He jumped from his seat and his chair scraped across the floor. 

“So humble,” she said, and examined him pointedly. His jaw twitched. “I insist. You could use it.” With that, she walked away, as if she didn’t just yank the rug from underneath his feet.

He stared down at the check, his hands shaking, blood pounding in his ears, and the dread that had been swirling in his stomach turned to disgust. Was this what he was? Someone who was just there to provide a service and be paid off when he was no longer useful? He remembered where he was, and when everyone around him was looking everywhere but at him he remembered why he felt like he didn’t belong. Fine. He was clearly expected to leave like nothing had happened, so he would.

After changing in the men’s room from the crippling tuxedo back into his jeans and leather jacket, he stormed through the crowd of people and through the front doors. The valet approached him and he asked for his car. The fresh air was less suffocating, but his chest was still too tight.

“There you are,” Anya’s voice came from behind him. His first mistake was turning around to look at her. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just—” he looked away. She was too bright, his eyes burned. “I’m not needed anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” then her eyes landed on the crumpled check still in his hand. Her brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

His fist tightened. He hadn’t wanted her to see it, but now he didn’t care. He waved it up and said, “A gift from  _ Nanna.” _

“I see.” Hurt flashed across her face. “If that’s all you came for, then go.”

He laughed bitterly. Of course she thought this was what he wanted. The reminder that she thought so little of him was a slap to the face. “So much for things being more valuable than money, right?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Where was his car? What was taking so long? “Yes, clearly I’m the idiot for thinking this was a good idea.”

“I was wrong about you.” That made him look back at her, her eyes burning through him. “I thought, maybe you were—”

“What? What was I?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought, because you’re just as selfish and stupid as I expected.”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Okay, Anastasia. Enjoy your party.”

“I think I will.” 

Watching her climb up the stairs was worse than being stuck underneath her gaze— the force of it knocked him in the chest. His car rumbled next to him and the valet stepped out. The sound of the door slamming shocked him back to the ground. 

He stuffed the check into the valet’s hand. “Give this back to Marie, would you?”Through the rearview mirror, he saw the valet’s eyes widen and he raced inside. 

Dmitry rubbed his hands on the steering wheel, finding comfort in the familiarity, and he wondered how long it would take for the passenger seat and his heart to not feel so empty again.


	7. Day Four / Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it!! Thank you all for reading this far, for supporting me, and for leaving such lovely comments. They mean the world to me! Stay safe and clean and entertained during these weird times <3
> 
> Enjoy!!

Anya searched with her hand for the remote on the floor. She’d slept the entire morning away, and she was determined to spend the rest of the day on this couch, trying and failing to think of anything other than a certain boy. She’d only spent three days with him, this was longer than the necessary amount of time for him to consume her thoughts. Her fingers finally curled around the remote and she clicked a button to get rid of the ridiculous _Are you still watching?_ question on the screen.

“I’m officially worried about you,” Alexei walked into the living room that Anya had monopolized. Olga had left that morning to pick up her kids from the babysitter’s, Tatiana had stopped by the office to pick up a few things, and Maria was getting ready to head out as well. It seemed Anya was the only one who was static and unmoving today. “You never watch _Friends,_ are you okay?”

Anya muted the TV. “I’m fine, it was just a late night.”

Alexei pursed his lips and sat on the other side of the couch, not believing a word. “It’s been hard after Mom and Dad died.” Anya stared at a spot on the floor. “But I don’t think that’s what’s really bothering you.”

She sat up and shrugged.

“I didn’t see Dmitry leave last night…” he let his sentence trail off with the unspoken question she’d been avoiding.

She sighed. “It’s _fine.”_

“Obviously it’s not.”

“I don’t know! I— he wasn’t what I thought he was. Nanna paid him for driving me here and that was all he came for, I guess.”

“No she didn’t.”

“Yeah she did! I saw him holding a check—”

“Nanna said he gave it back to her.”

Anya blinked. “What?”

He grinned. “That’s what you were upset about?”

“Nastya!” Maria’s heels echoed through the house. “Do you still have my earrings? The dangly ones? I can’t remember what I did with—” she stopped when she felt the tension in the room. After a brief pause while she examined the situation, she muttered, “Wow, you’re really hung up on him, huh?”

“Oh my god,” Anya stood up and crossed her arms. “I don’t understand why you guys are so worried, I’m fine!”

“Don’t be offended,” Alexei whispered to Maria from the couch. “Nastya is just defensive because we’re right.” They shared a laugh and Anya groaned.

“Your earrings are in my purse, hang on.” Anya left the room before they could pester her anymore. She found her purse by the staircase and started digging through it. Frustrated that she couldn’t find them, she sat on the floor and dumped its contents, shifting through receipts and gum wrappers and pens until she found the earrings her sister gave to her on their way home last night. But when she went to pick them up, a folded piece of paper with a Holiday Inn logo at the top caught her attention. She carefully unfolded it and her heart leapt to her throat. 

She recognized the way the lines were drawn first. Quick, confident strokes that somehow captured her likeness onto the page, with _More permanent than a napkin_ scribbled off to the side. When had he drawn this? Yesterday? A year ago? Why didn’t he give it to her?

She unfolded the napkin he’d drawn on. After staring at it for what felt like hours, her shaking hands stuffed everything back into her purse, careful to leave out the drawings that she grabbed so she could put those in her pocket. 

She raced back into the living room and threw on a zip up hoodie over her pajamas. “Alexei?” She didn’t notice Maria pull the earrings out of her hand. “Can I borrow your car?”

“Umm,” he raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to a friend’s later—”

“What time?”

“Five.”

“I’ll be back by then.”

“Okay?” He stood up to grab his keys.

Maria asked, “Where are you off to?”

Anya looked between her two siblings and understanding dawned on their faces. “I just… I need to do something.”

* * *

Anya had no idea what she was doing. Why she was driving through New York City again. What she was planning to say. Or do. Despite having plenty of time to strategize on her way. So she focused on the facts she did know: she remembered the apartment complex Dmitry pointed out yesterday, from there she was able to find the place where he worked, and now she was just sitting in the driver’s seat deciding if she should forget the whole thing.

Customers filed in and out of the front doors for several more minutes but she still wasn’t among them. She’d turned the car off and even taken the keys out of the ignition, but she hadn’t made a move to actually go inside yet. She wasn’t scared, exactly, she was just… uncertain? 

The doors opened again and there he was. Leather jacket and messy hair and all. 

She was past the point of no return so she leapt out of the car and called his name. He hadn’t seen her, or heard her apparently, because he was walking in the direction of his apartment with his headphones blaring and his eyes glued to the ground. It would be so easy to leave now and pretend she hadn’t come at all… 

She reached into the car to slam on the horn just as he passed by and he jumped. 

A beat passed as they locked eyes, the only noise coming from the traffic rushing behind her and pedestrians behind him. His jaw was slacked before she finally remembered what she came for: answers.

“Where are you going?” she asked instead.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “I— lunch break— what are _you_ doing here?”

She moved around the front of the car so that it was no longer dividing them. “Were you going to tell me you didn’t take the money?”

There was no warmth in his smile. “You’d already made your assumptions.”

“You had it in your hand!”

“That’s just a small technicality.”

“I’m not a mind-reader!”

“Anya,” he shook his cheek, looking behind him and then back at her. “Why are you here?”

She reached into the pocket of her jacket, marched up to him, and held the unfolded drawing in front of his face. “What’s this?”

The hard edges of his jaw and brow softened. “I forgot about that,” he whispered, eyes dropping to the ground, his hand rubbing his neck. “I didn’t think you’d want it.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t draw people.”

“I tried, I guess, I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Her arm dropped to her side. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, eyes downcast, and because arguing with him was easier than admitting the truth, she said, “You could’ve given it to me, you know.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know—”

“Why does this even matter?” 

She threw her hands in the air, exasperated already. _“Because_ I—”

“Look, I don’t have much longer to go get food—” he’d started to walk away so Anya reached up to clumsily grab the color of his jacket and yank him down for a kiss.

There was a second where he hesitated, and she wondered if she’d acted too quickly, if she’d let the frustration get the better of her again, if she’d completely misread the situation. But then he sighed against her cheek and carefully wrapped his arms around her waist. She pulled away for a second, grinning, and he crashed back into her, fireworks sparking behind her eyelids.

“I never thanked you,” she said after a minute, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “for everything.”

His throat bobbed. “Can I tell you something stupid?” He breathed against her mouth.

“You can tell me anything,” she whispered back.

“I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”

She pulled back to look at his face, thumb caressing his cheek and landing in his dimple. His eyes weren’t teasing. The moment was too fragile, too big, to laugh. “That’s not stupid, Dima.” 

His smile was soft and warm, and when he kissed her again that warmth spread from her lips to the pit of her stomach and all the way to her fingertips and toes. Why did she wait so long for this? She could spend her entire spring break wrapped in his arms, she decided, content and hungry at the same time, even if she had to stretch all the way up to him on her tiptoes.

But then her watch beeped and she remembered where they were and what time it was. To be continued, she thought.

She patted his chest. “Enjoy your lunch.”

“Wait, what?”

She giggled at his disappointment. “My brother needs his car back,” she stepped around to the driver’s side, “and you have to work.”

“Hold on—” he ran around the car to take her hand and kiss her again, cupping her face gently, her heart and hair fluttering with the spring breeze. 

“See you around?” she asked, a little breathless. 

Dmitry nodded, beaming, and brushed a thumb over her knuckles as she ducked into the car. He stepped back onto the sidewalk to wave and let her pull onto the street. 

Through the rearview mirror, Anya saw him still grinning, standing tall.

* * *

The rest of their break from school was spent exploring together. Sometimes Dmitry would come over for dinner, and he was a lot more relaxed around her family in a casual setting and now that he knew how Anya felt about him. Sometimes they’d meet halfway and were content just holding hands and getting to know each other even more. 

“Aren’t you getting tired of me?” Dmitry asked when she would randomly show up during his lunch break with a takeout sack for two. 

“Not yet,” she’d hum. He’d laugh and welcome her in.

When it was time to head back to campus, the drive was a lot less eventful, with more smiles and touches and kisses when they could. He even let her drive a few times. She beamed with pride, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of admitting he let her do it for another reason beside his own fatigue and boredom. That didn’t stop her from gloating. 

When Marfa greeted her back into her room, she immediately rolled her eyes at Anya’s dreamy grin.

“What?” Anya asked.

“I can’t believe you’re dating my best friend.”

Anya laughed, cheeks flushing. “I didn’t say anything!”

“It’s written all over your face!”

“Are you mad?”

“No,” Marfa paused. “But I’m annoyed at how happy I am for you. And I want credit for making this happen. And I need to tell him not to hurt you or I’ll kill him.”

Anya only giggled and squeezed her hand.

Dmitry was a little afraid the spell would break when classes started again, that she’d remember she was too good for him and move on, but it didn’t. They fell into a new rhythm. They’d study together— if you could call it studying— and sometimes hang out with Marfa and Gleb (he couldn’t say he was a fan of the guy). He’d bring her dinner during her night shifts at the library, and he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way she’d look at him. 

There were a lot of things about her he’d never get used to, but he wouldn't mind if he did.


End file.
